


Codependent

by Moriartied



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Depressing as fuck, For organizational purposes, Importing works from elsewhere, M/M, this is old
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-20
Updated: 2012-02-20
Packaged: 2018-05-24 07:06:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,377
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6145581
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moriartied/pseuds/Moriartied
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam will do anything for Dean. Making Dean happy makes Sam happy. Heartbreaking wincest: is there any other kind?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Sam was waiting up for Dean when he came home from the bar. Sam was always waiting up for Dean. Because that's what Sam did. He sacrificed himself to make sure his big brother was okay.

When he heard Dean struggling to get his key into the lock he got up and opened the door. He looped his arm around his brother's shoulders and led him to the bed. Dean smelled like beer and cheap cologne. His lips were red and bruised and there were angry handprint bruises on his neck and chest that shouted at Sam when he helped Dean out of his shirt.

It pained Sam to see what Dean was doing to himself. He wished he knew why. He wished he could do something to help.

Dean was asleep as soon as he hit the sheets so Sam poured a glass of water and sat it on the nightstand for when Dean woke up. Then he sat down on his bed and watched his brother sleep.

It had been like this for a year, almost since Sam left Stanford. It started about a month after he and Dean had started hunting together again.

Sam knew it was his fault somehow, he just didn't know why. And so he did everything he could to make it better. Bu Dean was sinking deeper and deeper into his destructive habits. Sam had had to pick him up at police stations twice already this month, and had spent countless nights watching Dean sleep, making sure he didn't choke on his own vomit.

Tonight was just one in a seemingly unbreakable pattern.

Dean was so pale. The purpling bruises and the dark circles around his eyes were in painful contrast with his sickly white skin. Sam wanted nothing more than to shake Dean out of his stupor and beg him to stop doing this to himself.

But he'd tried that once and earned a black eye for his trouble. So instead he let Dean self-medicate whatever problem he was trying to deal with, and tried to make sure he didn't kill himself in the process.

Dean woke up in the middle of the night and puked his guts out into the trashcan Sam had placed next to his bed. Sam woke up with a start and rushed to Dean's side, handing him the water. Dean sank weakly into Sam's side as Sam rubbed calming circles into his back.

"You're okay, I got you," Sam mumbled. If he told Dean this enough maybe he would believe it. Maybe Sam would believe it too.

"Sam," Dean croaked. Sam's hand stopped.

"Yeah?"

Dean didn't usually speak, generally groaned and fell back into bed.

" 'm sorry," Dean turned his head away.

Sam frowned. "For what?"

Dean stared at the floor. "For putting you through this. For being a fucking mess. For everything Sam."

Sam was taken aback by Dean's words, the first time he'd ever acknowledged that something was wrong. "It's okay."

Dean turned to face him. "No it's not. I… I'm hurting you. And that's the last thing I want. Godammit Sam, I love you."

Sam wrapped his arms around Dean. "I love you too."

Dean shook him off. "No," he muttered. "Not you don't. Not the way I want."

Sam furrowed his brow. "What are you talking about, Dean?"

Dean took a deep breath, twisting his hands in his lap.

"Sam I can't do this anymore." Dean pinched the bridge of his nose like he was in pain. "I thought I could…"

"Could what?"

"Sam I love you. I'm _in love_ with you."

The shock must have been apparent on Sam's face because Dean laughed darkly. "Yeah, disgusting, I know."

Sam flinched. That hadn't been what he was thinking. Surprising, unexpected, _jarring_ , but not disgusting.

"I-I… Dean," he stammered. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"Why? Because I'm a selfish bastard. I tell you, you leave. I wanted to keep you around for as long as possible." Dean chuckled painfully, "Selfish, masochistic, I don't know. Doesn't matter now, right? You're going to leave and I'll never see you again."

Sam frowned. "No… I'm not leaving."

"Yeah? Is this part of your saving people thing? Gonna try to fix me?"

Sam couldn't listen to Dean talk like this.

"Dammit Dean, no. I'm not leaving, because…" he couldn't say it. It wasn't a lie, technically. He did love Dean, more than anything in the world, but not that way. But he couldn't handle the look on Dean's face.

So he leaned forward and kissed him.

Dean pulled back. "What are you doing?" he demanded.

Sam frowned. "This is what you wanted, isn't it?"

Dean nodded. "But not if you don't—"

"I do, Dean. I want this." He could do this, for Dean. He could give Dean what he needed. Because making Dean happy would make him happy.


	2. Chapter 2

Sam lets Dean kiss him. Lets him touch him. Lets him fuck him. Sometimes he even manages to enjoy it. Or at least he enjoys that look of utter pleasure, contentedness and peace that finally makes its way onto Dean's face when he comes hard into Sam's ass. There's no more drinking. No more bruises. Dean is truly happy for the first time and Sam's the one who made it happen. It should be enough, but Sam feels guilty. He wishes that he could love Dean for real. He wishes that he didn't have to fake it. Because sure, he's a good actor, but he knows that someday this is all going to come to a head and it will crush Dean. And that will be Sam's fault. And he won't be able to fix that.

But for now he lets Dean curl around him in bed, holding him close and whispering I love yous. And Sam says it back because he means it, but not that way. And they fall asleep and Sam loses another little bit of himself to Dean.

When Sam finally breaks it's just as bad as he imagined. Dean finds him in the bathroom with a bottle of jack in one hand and a bloody razorblade in the other. He's long since stopped feeling anything, and this is his latest attempt to break free from the numbness. It doesn't work, because everything is still in a fog as Dean rushes forward to hold him, begging Sam to tell him what's the matter. Dean's kisses don't feel wrong anymore, they just don't feel period.

Sam's wrist is bleeding all over Dean's shirt and he hears himself apologizing. He wants to tell Dean he can't do it anymore but Dean's going on about how he should have been there, how he should have stopped this, how everything is his fault, and all Sam can do is fall limply into Dean's embrace and tell him this has nothing to do with him.

Sam's grown accustomed to the lie that his body is starting to believe it. And his mind just numbs everything out. For all intents and purposes, he _is_ Dean's, fully and completely.

Sam gives some story about Mom and Jess and nightmares and Dean believes it. He strokes Sam's hair until he falls asleep, mumbling "I'm here baby" and "You're safe". And Sam doesn't dream, but then he hasn't for months.

Sam's next attempt at feeling occurs at a bad. Dean's asleep after a long hunt, passed out on the bed as soon as they got back to the motel. Sam goes out to get dinner and stops for a drink.

There's a girl. She looks a little like Jess. Blonde hair, pouty lips, big boobs. They fuck in the bathroom. Sam slams her up against the wall. But he's only half hard and he ends up leaving her there, neither of them satisfied.

He downs a double at the bar and heads home to Dean who's thankfully still asleep. Sam crashes down on the opposite side of the bed, dry sobs heaving through his chest. He decides then and there that this has to stop.

But when he wakes up to Dean's warm breath on his neck, Dean's hand snaked around his side, Dean's ankle linked, with his, and he can't. Numb is okay, he decides. He can be numb for Dean.


End file.
